Twenty nine point eight degrees Fahrenheit
by awkward innuendo
Summary: Prologue: "I can't." It was black when Kurt ran out. On that cold, open night, Kurt could think of only one place he wanted to be. He climbed into his truck and started the engine.
1. Chapter 1

**Home ****sweet ****home. ****It ****feels ****so ****good ****to ****be ****back ****where ****I ****love. ****In ****the ****words ****of ****Simon ****and ****Garfunkel, ****I ****shamelessly ****say**** "****hello ****darkness ****my ****old ****friend...****"**

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><p>Twenty nine point eight degrees Fahrenheit. Twenty nine point eight degrees Fahrenheit was what the thermometer read. That's the equivalent of minus one degree Celsius. Below freezing.<p>

Kurt dived under the covers in disgust.

A low sinking pressure was felt as a warm body laid down a couple of inches away from him; the gesture was almost a spoon, if not for the distance. But even with that space, Kurt could feel the warmth radiate off it. Kurt thrust his body backwards, fitting perfectly into the mould. He lifted the side of his ribcage off the bed, inviting what he knew would be a warm arm, to cradle him. There was a hesitation of about 3 seconds before the arm slipped into the natural curve of Kurt's side and loosely held him towards his own body. Kurt let that gorgeous warmth on his back and the feathery fluffiness of the down bed covers engulf him. He was theirs to thaw out completely.

Soon Kurt's little bare feet searched for the other pair. Finding them, he pressed the bottoms of his feet to the warm tops. The other man hissed and pulled his feet back at this sudden intrusion of cold.

"Jesus, with the sounds you're making, you would think someone was bum raping you." Kurt mumbled and started absently stroking up and down the arm that was wrapped around him.

The other man let out a dry huff of laughter before he boldly returned his feet back to Kurt's, pressing his feet up firmer at the reprove. Kurt's eyes fell shut as he snuggled closer into the broad chest. The other arm came to wrap around him as he did so.

Finally the man spoke.

"Kurt. Why are you here?"

Kurt eyes fluttered open and his voice was strained when he replied. "It's cold and I thought 'who is the best person to keep me warm?' You should be flattered that I thought of you."

"So you thought you'd just come over. At 2:00 in the morning. What? Your dad doesn't believe in blankets?"

"My dad has plenty of blankets at home actually."

"So your boyfriend sucks at keeping you warm at night does he?" The response of Dave Karofsky was blunt. His emotions were shut down and his voice betrayed little.

There was a pause as Kurt shifted his legs and torso nervously, unintentionally pressing closer to Dave as his thermal t-shirt rode up his chest. "That's the problem. He sucks." "Well" Kurt amended, his voice humourless and worn "wants to."

The silence seeped in and plugged Kurt's ears; saturating them with nothingness. When Dave replied, his voice held a firm edge to it, the tone would have been aggressive if not for the hoarse whisper his said it in. "Kurt. Why are you here? Really."

Kurt fiddled with the arm that never left his body. He noted that that same arm which was before cradling him into the source of the warmth was now tight like a vice, holding him in place. It wasn't long until Kurt spoke, "You're still a bully whip, right? So it's still your job to protect me." Kurt swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut "...and right now, I'm asking you to protect me." Kurt's voice was small and broken. In all his life, Dave had never heard it so. "Please David."

Dave slowly filled his chest with air, taking as much in as the pain in his lungs would allow. His chest pressed closer to Kurt's back as he did so. He exhaled in a warm stream against Kurt's neck, keeping that previous closeness by tightening his arms around the now exposed skin of Kurt's lower back and stomach. His arms held fast, hugging Kurt in place against him. The embrace was secure and safe.

Kurt never realised how every movement which pressed him closer, how every stroke he gave to Dave's skin, pierced little pins into Dave's heart. The pain was exactly that of a slow but constant dripping of blood from those multiple holes. But what was most unbearable was that although Dave knew the inevitable draining of his heart would come, it was the slowness that caused him most torture.

"Fine" was all Dave whispered.

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><p>Kurt was faced with a wall of musky heat and for a second, he thought it was summer again. At some point during the night, he had managed to roll over and his nose now fit snugly between the pillow and the curve of Dave's neck to shoulder. It was a miracle he could still breathe, but he didn't pull away just yet. Instead, he let his thoughts wonder to Blaine and mentally chuckled at the contrast.<p>

It is true that Kurt had always looked up to Blaine, well, figuratively speaking at least, however for Blaine as a lover his proportions just seemed...wrong. Wrong for Kurt anyway. Kurt knew that when he and Blaine would eventually have sex, Kurt would have to be the big spoon. Kurt didn't like the idea. It seemed so very cold on the outside.

At that thought, Kurt unconsciously huddled ever so closer toward Dave, a light shiver running through his nerves, even in the heat.

But Blaine was a junior after all and he was markedly smaller than Kurt, so aesthetically, the position would look unattractive if Blaine spooned Kurt- like a baby koala clinging to his mother's back. And Kurt did _not _want to play mother.

He let out a sigh against Dave's shoulder. This was what Kurt wanted. This was the perfect embrace. But... he'd said he'd wanted Blaine. Blaine was the natural choice. Everyone expected Kurt to be with him. It was just...

He gets lost in his head as he waited for Dave to wake up. Kurt found it strange that even when he was deep in thought, he could still pick up the precise moment when Dave's breathing changed from a heavy slumber to that of a deep wakening one. The difference in breathing was minute, yet Kurt could still tell.

Dave shifted his head so that as he woke, his cheek caressed the side of Kurt's face. Kurt gently moved his fingers which were already splayed on the other man's chest and whispered a "good morning" in Dave's ear.

Dave's breath was caught by a yawn as he murmured half a "mornin'" and offered Kurt a bashful smile while his guards were down.

The arm which was lazily resting on Kurt's hip moved up the small body to still at the back of his neck. Dave then ran the hand slowly downwards, fingers curving into the indent of Kurt's spine as his voice gravelled out "sleep well?"

Kurt moved so that he was looking at Dave when he answered, and not creating a damper damp patch where his mouth was pressed against Dave's tight black t-shirt. Dave wriggled himself backward slightly to give Kurt more breathing space. He still however, kept his arms wrapped loosely around Kurt. Their legs were also still tangled in each other's.

"Yeah. Brilliantly. Thank you David...for...you know. Everything."

Dave's features turned serious as he tried to read the emotions flitting across Kurt's face.

"So..." Dave tested "last night...you came here, _here _of all places, because what? You suddenly found out your boyfriend wants to sleep with you?"

Kurt pulled his eyes down and concentrated on the stitching of Dave's t-shirt; "something like that" Kurt lied.

It was true Blaine wanted to have sex with him, but the realisation didn't come in a 'Virgin Mary deluxe epiphany' package. Far from it.

Dave had continued to speak as Kurt's mind ran through the events of the evening before. "And...you're gonna talk to him about what happened?"

Confused, Kurt looked back up "why?" He stated simply. "Blaine understands that I'm not ready to sleep with someone. He's very understanding, you know. Today at school, I'm sure he'll be very apologetic." Lie.

Dave's hand stills from idly picking at Kurt's thermal top and started back, staring incredulously at him. He whips his arms out from under Kurt and rolls over, swinging his legs so that he is sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Not ready to sleep with someone! What the hell was this then?" Dave growls. His back is toward Kurt and he never looked around.

"It's different. He's my boyfriend. You can't just sleep with your boyfriend and not _do _anything." Kurt was certain he was right. Why lead a guy on by letting him sleep in your bed and he doesn't even get a hand job for all his efforts. It was different if the guy was Dave though. Kurt thought he and Dave were in the same boat: both not ready for gay sex. Jesus, Dave hadn't even come out yet, how could he be ready? These sets of assumed beliefs suited Kurt just fine.

"Why not? I don't see the big issue with _just_ sleepingwith someone, seeing as you had _just __slept _with me?" Dave pressed, his voice straining to remain low.

Kurt looked taken aback and tried to find some words that would make sense; words that would make Dave see.

"It's different..." was all he could think of.

Dave gets up, his old black t-shirt has rolled up during the night so it didn't quite reach the hem of Dave's smoky grey boxers; leaving a stark band of tan flesh for Kurt's eyes to be drawn to.

"I don't ever want to be in this position again Hummel. It's not that I care you've used me, but what bites the most is that I _knew_ from the moment you called, you were using me. And I let you. I will always let you. So in future don't. Don't come to me to get away from Blaine, because you're only going to run back to him. And I hate the way you make me feel for being so weak."

He walked over to the radiator and grabbed the towel there. Kurt's eyes were wide as he tried to form a coherent sentence. Dave's back was turned against Kurt as he muttered "I'm going to take a shower. By the time I get out, my dad's usually left for work. The place is all yours after that. I'll get you a clean towel and once you're ready, I'll drive you to school."

"No, really, I'll be-"

Dave cut Kurt off and looked earnestly into his eyes. "This is me protecting you Hummel. Let me at least have that." He walked out of the door; ignoring the sentence Kurt was halfway through spluttering.

Kurt sat up in the bed and for a while, he was just staring at the empty doorway, eyes wide and mouth parted. He tried to make sense of what just happened.

He didn't mean to make Dave feel like that. That was not what he'd done, Kurt thought. He didn't see it like that: didn't want to see it like that.

Images of a grinning Kurt gripping a voodoo doll, flashed through his mind. Kurt one by one sticking pins into a rag figure sporting a letterman. All the pins were centred at one point in the doll's chest. Kurt the sadist, he thought.

Kurt pressed his fingernails deep into his palm until that pain was all he could feel, all he could think of. He concentrated on it; focused all his mind on that one sharp stab. That way this new, less emotionally hurtful pain might wash out the pain roaring in his heart. Physical pain he could deal with.

He choked back a tearless sob as the metallic click of the front door echoed through the room.

Quickly, Kurt scrambled out of the sheets and dived to the floor, trying to wrench on his jeans as he peered under the bed to find his shoes. Through a gap in the curtains, he could make out a light snowfall delicately whiting the air and melting to invisibility as it hit the ground. He stopped in his rush to walk to the window and just gape at the deadly beauty of the scene in front. It made him unbelievably sad to witness something as innocent as a snowdrop, float merrily downwards towards its death. So silent, so peaceful. Not even putting up a fight as the inevitable doom grew closer as they reach the muddy waters of the earth.

Kurt turned back to the room and left the lemmings to fall. On the wheelie chair he spied a thick maroon hoodie draped over the back. He inhaled the feelings of warmth and safety.

Kurt splashed his way toward his truck and yanked it into first gear. Now all he had to do was convince Dad and Carol he had just stepped out this morning to warm the engine up.

Hopefully Blaine would have snuck back out of the house by now. And Dave? Kurt left him in the shower.

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><p><strong>I <strong>**will ****probably ****continue ****and ****make ****a ****little ****fic ****out ****of ****this, ****but ****I ****don****'****t ****know, ****it****'****s ****only ****if ****people ****like ****it. ****Please ****tell ****me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys are completely and utterly and perfectly awesome! And a special shout out to Dorydafish who was kind enough to mention me on Tumblr- to this day I am simply blown away by that. I only hope this lives up to the first chapter. I am working hard toward a (happy) Kurtofsky ending, but the road there is going to be rough for all involved.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"Kurt?"

Out of his bedroom window, he caught a flash of red before the figure scrambled to his tuck. With water dripping down his face, Dave watched Kurt get into the truck and drive off without him.

Yet another moment Dave missed.

He shucked off the towel from his tapered waist and started to change. The smell of Kurt lingered in the air. With each breath in, the pins in his heart pushed a little deeper.

As the scent of Kurt filled Dave's body, the feel of Kurt ran through Dave's mind. Kurt's soft breathing, the weight of Kurt under his arm, the close heat of Kurt's breath as he whispered in Dave's ear...

The feel of Kurt leaving him for Blaine.

He slammed his fist into the bed and threw open the window. He cared not for the cold or the collected dead that melted on his sill.

The one good thing about winter is that it erases everything. Scent, sight and touch become numb under that power. And right now, Dave wished for nothing more than numbness.

He kept his window open as he left for school.

He didn't look back at his unmade bed.

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><p>Kurt's truck peeled in to the school parking lot. Thankfully, he hadn't received too many questions from Burt as to why he was walking through the door when he should have been in bed. Burt knew how much he loved his car and besides, Kurt looked like crap. He assumed that if anything happened between Blaine and his son, Kurt would be sporting a happier expression.<p>

Kurt closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. His phone bleeped annoyingly in his pocket. He'd ignored the 5 voicemails and 17 text messages that cluttered his phone. He knew none of them were from Dave.

He told himself that it was just as well. That he wouldn't know what to say to him; that there was nothing _to __say _to him. Because nothing happened.

But in the depths of his heart, past all the humour, the bitchness and the bravery, there was a little corner burrowed deep which was full of black anguish. The insignia of 'David' was imprinted again and again all over that corner and each impression felt like it was heated in fire before it was seared permanently to his heart.

With a deep, long sigh, he slipped out of his truck and steeled himself for that milky, cataract diseased morning.

The cold held no pleasure for him.

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><p>He knew Blaine would be waiting by Kurt's locker, and like the perfect gentleman he was, Blaine didn't let him down.<p>

"Kurt! Thank God! I've been calling you. I thought, after last night...you, you'd just left. I didn't know where you'd gone, what might have happened...Oh! I'm just so glad you're alright!" Blaine threw his arms around a limp and oh-so tired Kurt and squeezed tight. Kurt stood there in the embrace and wanted so much to let his eye lids fall and wake to find himself held in strong arms again.

Kurt pulled away with a dull heat in his eye and a flame building in his gut. "You snuck into my house, my _home, _Blaine_._I woke up to find you semi-naked and pressed on top of me, kissing my face and neck. What did you expect me to do? You came into my home. My _home _for Christ's sake."

"You say it as though I'm a stranger. It was romantic. It's what lover's do! Besides. I've been to your house before; I even recall sleeping in your bed."

"Not with me in it, Blaine! There _is_ a small difference." Kurt struggled to stifle the bitterness seeping through the cracks in his voice. He shook his head and tried to explain something he should never have to "you know I'm not ready for...that. I thought you'd understood."

Blaine looked pityingly into Kurt's eyes and spoke in a mild manner that just dripped of patronisation "Kurt. We've been dating for a while now. I think it's time we moved our relationship to the next level." He ducked his head down to try and catch Kurt's eye with the full force of his own charming ones "Kurt, it's time. And anyway, there is no one in the whole world who is going to be better for your first time than me...and hey, listen" he whispered in Kurt's ear "my parents are out tonight. I want you to come over."

Kurt couldn't ignore the panic and anxiety that surged in his stomach at that passive aggressive warning.

Blaine stepped closer to Kurt, filling his space and making it impossible for him to back away. "I love you. You're safe with me..."

A clattered crash from a locker at the other end of the hall broke the contact Blaine held over Kurt. They both turned to see a fiercely aggressive Dave using his forearm to choke a resident jock. A growing, sticky puddle pooled at the victim's feet.

Kurt turned back to Blaine. His features seemed to settle between confusion crossed with slow realisation. Traces of panic still held their lingering marks on his face. "You've been here for 2 months now. Don't you find it odd that you haven't received a single slushy? We're even openly dating. What's with that smirk? Don't you find that even a little bit weird? Blaine?" Kurt searched in Blaine's eyes for some emotion other than smug amusement.

"I'm smirking because I find it cute you don't realise it's because monsters like Karofsky have turned from pinning you to lockers to just plain pining for you." Blaine tilted his head and placed a finger on his lip in mock thought. "I think it's so adorable of him to still think he's some sort of avenging protector."

Kurt didn't know what was worse: Blaine's arrogance or his condescending tone towards Dave.

"I know!" Blaine continued. The curl of his smile was laced with an almost imperceptible hint of jealousy. "Why don't we ask Karofsky." At that, Blaine stepped forward intending to block Dave's path.

Dave didn't even bother to break stride. He shouldered Blaine back just a little too roughly and spat out a grim "piss off Anderson" over his shoulder.

But what Blaine couldn't see behind that pure loathing, was the sudden flux of pain which distorted every feature of Dave's face. It crushed Dave's heart to act like Kurt didn't exist. However, it wasn't as if Dave would let his weaknesses show.

Kurt fixed an unblinking stare at Dave's retreating back; despite Blaine trying to position himself between Kurt and the image of Dave, rubbing his shoulder excessively as he did so.

Kurt willed Dave to turn around. Kurt willed Dave to prove to him that he wasn't the one with the sadist's doll clutched in his hand: that Kurt was not the monster.

But Dave didn't turn around. He didn't come back.

"...He's not the monster." Kurt whispered finally.

"What was that? Babe, does this seem bruised to you? I think it might be bruised."

"Before. You called Dave a monster. He's not." Kurt said a little more loudly.

Blaine looked up from examining his shoulder and stared long into Kurt's eyes. Blaine tried to school his features, but Kurt could see the anger behind. Blaine's look of betrayal was the worst part.

"Were you ever going to tell me or did you just hope I would never figure it out?"

"Tell you what?" Kurt questioned, taking a step back as the rage in Blaine's eyes flamed and smoked his eyes over in a gloss of anger.

"That you spent last night with him. Karofsky." Blaine jerked his head violently back to the outside doors; the one's Dave had just left from. Kurt could feel the small bubbles of Blaine's spit dissolve and dry as it landed on Kurt's white lips and hot cheek.

"What does it matter?"

"It matter's if you...did you- you _fucked _him, did you? Hm. Kurt? Did you?"

The absolute crudity of the sentence, so real, so cold, shredded Kurt's romantic Broadway sensibilities and his body physically recoiled from the accusation.

"How can you say that to me Blaine. After everything. How could you?" Kurt's voice barely made out a sound before it turned into wordlessness. Kurt felt himself to be like one of those lemmings he'd turned against. Free falling in that wintery storm flurry. He was so dangerously close to that frigid, unforgiving ground.

Blaine's fist clenched to an unearthly whiteness. Small red lines pooled where his nails dug into his palm. His jaw was set square and Kurt could make out the muscles flexing at his temple; the tendons drawing to tight strings that seemed on the edge of snapping.

Without another word, Blaine turned on his heel and stalked outside. He slammed the doors against their frames as he left. Kurt's body flinched involuntarily at the brutal sound. He wished he hadn't, but he did.

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><p>It had turned colder outside and the wind seemed to have picked up from the time Dave had driven in to school. He had walked outside to cool down so as not to let his aggression spill over onto the face of the jock with the slushy. It was the last straw when he felt a firm hand creasing the back of his lettermen as he was forcibly yanked to a stop.<p>

Dave didn't need this. Not today. For right now, Dave would have liked nothing more than to let out all his anger and aggression and self-disappointment; to let out all of his regret in one beautiful throw of a fist.

It startled him to discover that it was Blaine who stopped him.

"Who the hell do you think you are Karofsky? You don't _need_ to protect him anymore. Don't you see? He doesn't _need __you_! You're useless to him; you can't give him what he wants." Blaine was shoving him now; his face was dangerously close to Dave's "...what he needs. He needs _me_." The look in Blaine's eyes seemed to be willing Dave to react. To fight.

He thought about how easy, how satisfying it would be to punch Blaine's face. Or better yet, how first he would rub it in; tell Blaine about last night. About how really, Kurt turned to him. How he, unlike Blaine, made Kurt feel safe, secure

...loved.

The words would just tumble out of Dave's chapped and frozen lips like the air he is exhaling in short, sharp puffs of smoke. 'Kurt' is already on every breath Dave takes in: it already has its red velvet throne implanted in the centre of Dave's tongue. Why shouldn't he breathe the words out?

Out of the corner of Dave's eye, he saw Kurt shift back and forth on his heel, wavering between the two boys. Kurt's eyes were fixed on Dave. They looked exhausted, broken, imploring silently. He could see the word 'Blaine' form in the cloud of Kurt's air as he begged that name.

Dave could do it. It would be so easy.

But. That would mean making Kurt choose. Choose between his boyfriend and Dave. And despite how hard Dave tried to pretend otherwise; he knew the outcome. He knew which one Kurt would choose. Always. And that thought sickened him as much as he was sickened by the knowledge that he didn't have enough self respect to leave Kurt.

"He's all yours Blaine. And you know what? He will always, always be yours. I'm done."

Dave didn't care to hide the bitterness in his words. There was nothing, Dave thought, nothing that would change Kurt's decision. And no matter how many times he tried to breathe Kurt out; to dethrone him with the force of his sighs, that acrid and unjust fact scratched his inside's blood raw every time he felt Kurt near.

"Now stop getting in my way, 'cos the next time you do, my fist is going to get in the way of your face." Dave spoke with a dark malice in his voice, but as he turned to leave he caught Kurt's stare and heaved to himself yet another one of his thousands of unsuccessful sighs.

It was the first time he allowed himself to look at Kurt since the time he left him in his bed. Since the time he saw Kurt walk out on him. Dave couldn't help the obvious way his features morphed into an expression of pain as he recalled the feelings of this morning. It was all he could do, to not go up to Kurt and wrap him in his arms like he had last night. He just wanted Kurt to reciprocate that feeling of comfort and safety which Dave had so easily given to him. He wanted Kurt to give him something other than a broken, pleading stare.

But Kurt wouldn't and Dave didn't care to stick around to wait for the rejection. Kurt watched on with shame pricking his eyes as he let Dave walk away again.

"Not a monster. Ha!" Blaine scoffed. "He will always be that kid who bullied you- that threatened to _kill _you, Kurt. How can you possibly think he will be better for you than I am? He will _always _be Karofsky."

Blaine's words echoed round Kurt's mind as it brought forth the tenderness of Dave's voice. The low way he whispered 'fine' in Kurt's neck; as if by making it as quiet as he could, Dave could mask that gulf of hidden ache which dripped through that one syllable. So loving, it made Kurt press even closer to that gentle but so solid back and cling his fingers tighter to that arm. That arm which was the one and only thing shielding him from the outside world. It was the only thing, but at that moment, it felt like enough.

"Tonight Kurt. I'll see you tonight." Blaine words cracked through Kurt's reverie and shattered those images.

Kurt was outside alone.

There was no Dave now. He was gone, and all Kurt had left was the silence of last night.

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><p><strong>Thank you again.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kurt didn't need to look at his truck's temperature gauge to know that it was cold outside. The frost had already started to climb up the corners of his window and he had only been parked 10 minutes. The coming frost seemed to have shifted the groggy clouds and turned the sky into a clear almost-black, blue. Not a single star ruptured that black cloak and the sky looked unusually large, foreign.

Kurt turned his head to face the two separate porch lights illuminating the house he was parked in front. The steering wheel made a groan as he gripped it tighter and he looked down, not for the first time, at the crumpled maroon heap sitting in his passenger's seat.

Dave's hoodie.

Kurt didn't know what possessed him to take it this morning, nor did he know what had possessed him to keep looking down at it now, or why it stopped him from going inside the house. He rubbed the thick cotton gently between his fingers before lifting it up and onto his lap. The weight of it instantly soothed him as he let what little warmth it contained seep into his thigh. He fiddled absently with the sleeve; pulling his hand inside it and caressing the soft lining under his palm as his gazed flitted to back to the house, eyebrows creased.

Kurt knew what he needed to do. He needed to throw the hoodie in the back seat and get out of the truck.

What did instead is keep the hoodie on his lap and made a U-turn out onto the main road.

15 minutes later Kurt's truck idled on the curb of a very different street, on the corner of a very different house.

He didn't think much on his way to Dave's house. Concentrating on the road signs was a great distracter and at the red lights, Kurt's mind managed not to wander back to how he had made this journey less than 24 hours before. And as Kurt was signalling into Dave's road, he managed to keep his thoughts away from the feel of Dave's covers as he snuggled underneath that fluffy thickness. And as Kurt parked up by Dave's home, his brain had succeeded in blocking out the hollow sound of Dave's voice as he told Kurt "I'm done."

Kurt opened the truck door and took a deep breath of chill air. He allowed it to sting his senses and awaken them to action. Still gripping the hoodie, he resisted the urge to crawl back into it as he walked up to the porch. Everything around Kurt held its silence.

He was about to ring the bell, but caught himself just in time.

Digging into his front pocket, Kurt unlocked his mobile and dialled. It was just like what he had done last night; however this time, Kurt wasn't so sure Dave would pick up.

Kurt held on the line until it had gone to voicemail: 30 long seconds away. He didn't want to leave a message. He didn't want to call again. He certainly didn't want to press the bell. And he desperately tried not to see the light that was on in Dave's room.

Kurt guessed that when Dave said he was 'done', he'd meant it.

Kurt stood hunched by his car door, letting the wind slice his face and water his eyes. He still clutched the hoodie to his chest. He had briefly considered just leaving it at the foot of Dave's door. But when it came down to it, Kurt couldn't bear leaving that hoodie to lie on the ground, soaking up the grimy melted waters until only perhaps in the morning, would it be noticed. By then, it would have been exposed to the elements all night. Unwatched and unloved.

There was a dull ache that ran through his stomach as he thought on the fate of the one thing he had left of Dave. He couldn't leave it like that: it was too cold.

His phone buzzed and Kurt was snapped back to the present; he remembered Blaine.

But it wasn't Blaine's name that flashed on the screen.

When Kurt was able to work his stiff fingers enough to accept the call, all that was audible was laboured, rough breathing. It sounded like he had been in a fight. Kurt crushed the phoned closer to his ear as he tried hard to catch the sound.

The truth was that, those few seconds after Kurt's call were the hardest, most agonising minutes of Dave's life so far.

But what it came down to, was that Dave didn't want to repeat the regret of watching Kurt walk into his truck and out of his life for a second time that day.

So between ragged breaths, Dave's voice whispered a low "wait" before he hung up.

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><p>Dave shot out a quick "bye" to his dad, before he shut himself out. The cold wind bit unforgivably at Dave's exposed face as he closed his front door. However, his breath didn't so much as catch in his throat as he made his way from the warmth of his home toward Kurt. Kurt noted Dave's cheeks were already ruddy and weather beaten and Kurt wanted nothing more than to caress Dave's skin with his hand, his check, his whole body, to feel if it was as cold as it looked.<p>

Dave looked down at Kurt with eyes narrowed and guards up. He stood a foot away from him and waited.

Kurt tried to think of anything that would break the thick ice that had formed between them; the ice which, ironically, felt colder than the frost dusting his truck. Kurt's eye drew back to Dave's bedroom window, back to the light that was still on.

"You know your window is open. You should close it before the cold makes you numb."

Dave's eyes flickered an unreadable glance at Kurt before he responded with carefully constructed bitterness; "Hummel. Why are you here? And for the love of God; don't tell me it was because you felt the sudden, burning desire to talk to me about the damn weather."

His words so artificial, so detached from true emotion: made Kurt's body spasm in a shiver. The words were harsh and spiteful enough, yes, but it was the fact that Dave's bitterness was only there as a shield to safeguard his heart: the fact that Dave had to protect himself from Kurt, which stimulated Kurt's self-disgust.

Dave noticed the shiver and he couldn't help but soften. His voice was tender when he formed the question of whether Kurt would prefer to sit in the truck. Dave barely resisted the urge to run the backs of his fingers across Kurt's cheek as he asked, but he still allowed his mouth to turn down with concern.

Kurt glanced down to his truck, relieved at the idea. He then happened to catch sight of the overnight bag on his back seat. Kurt's eyes widened and he quickly shifted focus back to the loose gravel of the street, mumbling what he hoped came across as sounding casual. "Do you mind if we take a walk?"

But it was too late.

Dave had followed the movement of Kurt's eyes and saw the black suitcase for himself. A nauseous feeling crept over him and he followed Kurt in silence; chiding himself because yet again, he allowed another piece of his heart to get punctured by Kurt.

They walked down the street awhile; their body's appearing in and out of shadow with the coming and passing of street lamps. Dave was always one step behind Kurt and Kurt had to constantly look back to reassure himself that Dave was still with him. Every time he glanced backwards, the same stony look pierced through Kurt's restless gaze and Kurt's resolve ebbed away a little bit more. He gripped unconsciously tighter on to that hoodie.

Kurt couldn't take it anymore, he didn't want to walk any further; especially when it felt like at any moment Dave could just stop and walk in the opposite direction and Kurt would never know.

The street lamp they were near gave Kurt enough light to see Dave's features shift to something like expectation. Dave's features were still cold, but there was something behind them, an agitated energy that played behind the eyes.

Kurt surveyed the streetlight they were next to. It was old and had started to rust on one side. It matched the decaying wooden bench it was illuminating. What a picture of ruin, Kurt reflected, huffing dryly to himself. Kurt looked down and shook his head, trying to gather his senses about him. He thought now was the best time as any.

"Dave..." He thought he should start simply. Easy. But in truth, even with that one word, Kurt was startled at how alien it sounded as it fought through the quiet.

He cleared his throat softly and began again. "I want to give you back your hoodie. I borrowed it this morning while you were..." He trailed off, recalling how he stole out of Dave's house this morning like a thief. Or a lover. To be honest, Kurt didn't think there was much difference between the two. Kurt sighed and held up the piece of clothing between them "...so I want to give it back."

Dave stared at the hoodie held limp in Kurt's hand.

"Keep it." Dave replied curtly, with an unreadable expression fixed on his face.

Kurt didn't understand. He'd thought Dave would want it back. He wanted Dave to take it back, needed Dave to take the constant reminder of him away. "No. It's yours. I'm sorry for taking it. I shouldn't have."

"Why did you do it Kurt?" Suddenly, Dave's voice had changed; it had become deeper and more pained. For the first time, Dave didn't meet Kurt's eye as he spoke. If Kurt concentrated enough, he would have been able to see Dave's hands trembling. But Kurt wasn't concentrating, so Kurt didn't see.

"I- it was cold, I guess-" Kurt lied. He was taken aback by the question and didn't know what to say. He couldn't even answer that question to himself.

Dave cut Kurt off with a sharp exhalation of breath and whipped his head up with a half angry, half disbelieving expression. "I'm not talking about the damn hoodie! I _saw __you _Kurt. I saw you leave and I want to know why. Why couldn't you just let me..." Dave didn't have the courage the finish the sentence, so he broke off urgently searching Kurt's lowered gaze for the answer to his unasked question.

Dave had seen Kurt leave. The fact stabbed Kurt's chest and knocked all speech out. It seemed so much worst if he had witnesses; if he had Dave to witness.

It was a while before Kurt could gasp in enough air to hold down a sentence. Even then, he wasn't able to look at Dave without losing all his breath again. So instead, he trained his eyes on the loosening paint of the lamppost.

"I was so upset" Kurt finally whispered. It looked as if the paint was trying to physically jump off the lamppost in order to escape corrosion. Kurt let his mind focus on the little details in front of him and tried so hard not to be consumed by the pain Dave was trying to dig up. "I couldn't bear the thought of what I'd done- what you'd made me out to be. How could I stay? I-"

"For me." Dave swallowed and his voice shook. "You should have stayed...for me."

Kurt's eyes filled as he snapped his head to Dave, Kurt's whole body was shivering as he saw the mask crumble off Dave's face, watching piece by agonising piece the revelation of absolute pain in Dave's heart.

Dave continued with an anger that rose with each breath "Jesus, you talk about how _you _felt, how _you _were sad. What about me! Have you even, for _one _second, thought about anyone but yourself? Did you even think about what you're doing to me? Have I even once crossed your mind?" He sniffed back the water building just behind his eyes, at the top of his nose and carried on regardless. He took the hoodie from where Kurt was cradling it against himself and held it in front of Kurt's face "Or, was your only thought that you have to give me back my stupid hoodie because you can't stand to have it around you any longer! Because you can't stand to have _me _around you."

Despite Dave's anger, his voice cracked on the last sentence and caused all the rage to drain out of the fracture, leaving an exhausted, broken shell.

Kurt stared at the hoodie which, in Dave's anger, he had tossed to the ground. He watched as it snagged on the splintered bench before dropping into one of the many puddles on the floor. He watched it absorbing all the water from the ground as Kurt's own filled his eyes and tumbled down uncaught and unabsorbed. Kurt stood awkwardly with his face turned away from Dave and wept silently. He hoped Dave wouldn't see and think him weak.

Dave saw the shivers and he saw the tears, every liquid drop ramming those pins in his heart deeper still. He wanted so much to comfort Kurt, but he couldn't do that to his heart, he couldn't let the blood run faster out from his soul. But watching Kurt in pain and doing nothing had to be worse than anything Kurt could do now to hurt him. He thought there was no more pain possible that Kurt could inflict on him.

So Dave adopted a gruff, uncaring facade as he attempted to offer what little protection he could to his heart. "Fuck sake Hummel, you're shivering so much you look as if you're having a fit. Come here."

When Kurt did nothing but turn his body away some more, Dave couldn't help but adopt a gentle tone and derail the tear track from a cheek with his thumb, while resting Kurt's jaw on the side of his open fist. Dave's hand felt so solid against Kurt's jaw and Kurt immediately allowed the weight of his head, thick with confusion and helplessness, to bow down on it. Dave supported Kurt's head as Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and pressed against the thumb stroking his face.

"Kurt. Come closer." Dave whispered.

What about Blaine? This was all too much, Dave was too close and yet, for Kurt, it seemed too little. Far, far too little. Kurt so much just wanted to move his head ever so slightly, so that the thumb resting by the corner of his mouth would brush against his lips. So he could feel that rough pressure ground his lips and stop them from trembling. So he would know what it would feel like to kiss a part of Dave. This was far, far too little and yet Kurt stood motionless.

"Kurt, we've slept together. I hardly think a hug is pushing the boat out." Dave conveniently failed to mention that their current position was far more intimate than any hug could ever be, too scared that Kurt would pull away.

Gently, Dave drew his hand back. Kurt followed the movement with all his body, not allowing Dave's hand to break contact with his skin only until the last moment when he was brought into Dave's arms.

Kurt let out a shuddery breath as he moulded his body around Dave's. Kurt's face burrowed into Dave's neck as he breathed in that familiar, warming scent. If Kurt closed his eyes, it felt like the night before; where it was just the two of them and Kurt was safe, cradled between those arms and that chest.

Kurt didn't need to stay strong anymore; he didn't need to hold it together. And so he didn't. He let the shudders shake his frame as he leaned into Dave and he let the tears run down his face as they dampened Dave's neck and slid down the line of Dave's collar bone. Dave just cuddled him tighter; with one hand cupping the back of Kurt's neck, the other stroked soothing patterns against Kurt's lower back.

Dave didn't care about his heart. In that one moment, he gave it all to Kurt and would do so a million times over.

He held on long after Kurt's shudders quieted down and he caressed the side of Kurt's face with his own to dry away the tears.

"Why do you do that?" Kurt asked. His voice was heavy and muted by the passing tears.

"Do what?" Dave's response was barely a murmur; he was distant and distracted by making sure no trace of wet sorrow was left on Kurt's skin.

"Make it so..." Simple? Easy? Right to be around you?

All these thoughts popped into Kurt's mouth like liquorish candy and he tasted them round his mouth before spitting them aside. Instead, he settled on "make it seem like we did more than just sleep together?"

Dave sighed out and rested the side of his head against Kurt's hair, trying to piece together the words in his head. "You of all people should know that sex, yeah it's intimate, but...I dunno. Being so comfortable around another person that you can just sleep and not kept up all night with worries about what the other person is thinking, or if you're doing it right. That you can just be. Can j_ust __sleep_. That's was it's all about, right?" He snickered bitterly at himself and gripped Kurt closer "lame I know, but that's what I figure."

Kurt turned his head sharply away, inadvertently pushing Dave's head away from rest. Kurt didn't want to believe it, he didn't want it to be true. For if it was, then where does that put him and Blaine? Everyone told him that Blaine was his perfect boyfriend, and if he couldn't even trust Blaine enough to sleep with him, then what chance has he got with any other boyfriend's? Boyfriend's that weren't 'perfect' for him.

They stood there together in silence for a minute, just content to hold on to each other. Eventually Kurt shifted away from Dave's neck. Dave's arms refused to loosen their grip and Kurt didn't work to remove his hands that fisted Dave's coat.

"I suppose I have to go." Kurt began, looking at the red heat marks he had created on Dave's neck.

"You don't have to go anywhere." Dave's words were firm and carried a hint of hope in them.

"You've been good to me."

Dave huffed and looked away, his thumb stroking just once more Kurt's neck. "Just not good enough."

"Dave..." Kurt whispered, pained. He pulled back from Dave, forcing their embrace to crumble. Kurt attempted to get Dave to look at him as he explained "I'm with Blaine."

Dave shook his head forcefully and shot an intense, pleading stare to Kurt. Kurt could see the build up of tears in Dave's beautifully anguished eyes; just one blink could tip the scale and cause it all to melt. "Don't. Kurt. Please don't go."

"Please Kurt..."

It was just two small and broken words, but for the first time he had begged Kurt.

He had begged Kurt not to go.

Dave's eyes had filled to their barrier.

He had begged Kurt to choose him.

His vision had gone blurry.

He was scared and he was broken and his guards had fallen to dust and he begged.

He blinked once.

"I have to go. Blaine is waiting for me."

He had begged but it was all for nothing.

Dave was crying.

Finally, the rusty nails that Kurt had so slowly shoved passed Dave's chest and thrust through Dave's back, ripped themselves out of his heart and left him pouring blood on the bitter pavement for dead.

And Kurt left him there.

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><p><strong>My chest aches after writing this; I do hope some of that emotion came across in the writing. Also, I really, really don't know if Kurt is going to sleep with Blaine or not tonight, could go either way, but it's not looking great. <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for going AWOL. Hope this makes up for a small portion of me being a massive failure.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

The front door stood ajar. He assumed Blaine must have seen Kurt's headlights flash against his window, or perhaps just heard Kurt's car door slam too violently shut. It couldn't have been that Blaine had kept the door open for hours, patiently staring out of his bedroom window, waiting for any sign that the SUV would return.

Kurt paused at the entryway and let a slender finger run against the grain of the wood. Smooth perfection of course.

The door swung back as silently as if an entire can of WD40 oil had been thrown onto the hinges.

Knowing Blaine, it probably had.

Surrounding the living room were numerous white tea-lights, all almost burnt down to that delicate but precipitous point of being extinguished. The dull, barely-there lighting and the warm play of shadows really were beautiful.

_You have to admit_, Kurt thought sardonically, _he does know how to put on a show._

Upstairs, he found Blaine feigning sleep on top of the covers. Fully clothed.

With Kurt's back pressed against the door, he waited for Blaine to make his play.

The seconds passed and eventually Blaine swivelled to sit on the edge of his bed. His eyes were still lowered and his shoulders hunched.

"I know this is hard for you and that you're scared. I understand. But you're ready for this Kurt. You really are." Blaine paused in his measured tone, gathering his thoughts from a speech he'd spent hours practising. Every detail and inflection agonised over, every word carefully chosen.

"You've almost graduated from High school. What better to lose your virginity to someone who cares for you? Who's always stood up for you, who's always been there when you needed someone…" Blaine was on his feet, daring to look at Kurt for the first time. There was an unashamed pleading in his eye and you could tell he'd been crying. Nothing he did could stop the speech from drifting out his mind. The more he desperately grappled for those words, the further away they floated and thinned in the mist

"...and most of all, not afraid to give his whole heart, his whole heart Kurt. His whole heart and whole person to be with you. I'm that person, Kurt, I can be that person, not…" The tumult of his emotion came to a climax. The speech was gone and so had Blaine's resolution to continue.

To both boys the pattern on the carpet suddenly seemed extraordinarily interesting. Kurt focused on the weave…and what _is _it made from? It looks so soft. Kurt tried to think of anything just so he didn't have to think on Blaine.

Nice bold colours too. But there's an imperfection in the pattern: a kink in the otherwise rational and sensible lines of its pre and fore runners. You wouldn't even notice it if you weren't concentrating. At a glance, it looks perfect. But of course, if one looks hard enough, the mistakes always appear. And then they never go away. Kurt couldn't stop thinking about 'where's wally'. How once you spot him, you can never unfind him. He's always there, staring you in the face: mocking you with his incessant smile and hipster glasses, hat and walking stick. Once found, game's over, fun's over.

Blaine, on the other hand, could only find his ending sentence in the pattern of the carpet. "I love you Kurt. You know I do."

That's why he came back, right?

Blaine moved closer, his hands reaching Kurt's waist. Gently tugging on Kurt's buckle, he closed the distance. As Kurt was still staring docilely at the floor, Blaine became bold enough to risk fingering the leather of Kurt's belt and lean in to softly suck at Kurt's bottom lip.

Kurt's jaw was tight as he kissed with mechanic efficiency. He could feel the urgency of Blaine's lips crushing against his own, encouraging him silently to reciprocate, but still he didn't alter from the bare closed mouth pucker-release motion.

His mind wandered.

Not to the broken boy lying 20 streets away. A boy who is desperately cradling a Kurt-scented pillow to his face so that his sobs are muffled from his parents. A boy who is painfully aware that Kurt is sprawled across someone else's bed. Pleasuring someone else. Having someone else's hands hold him in place as they rock their skins against one another. Both bodies sticky from sweat and pre cum. The rocks become faster, shorter. Kurt closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the pillow. He moans out…

Kurt didn't think much of him.

Instead all he could think of was his dad. Back to that talk, which, at the time, Kurt thought was so embarrassingly awkward. He thought about the genuine feeling behind the words "use it to connect to another person, don't throw yourself around like you don't matter, because you do matter, Kurt."

His dad meant it. Kurt did matter.

"Stop."

Kurt pressed a palm on Blaine's chest, stilling Blaine's swollen lips. Kurt pushed back harder, wanting to break the connection between their mouths. To take those lips, which weren't another's, away. "Stop. I can't do this."

He needed to get out of here. He needed Dave. Kurt needed him so badly that moment. He needed Dave to pick him up and take him somewhere safe. Safe back to that bed.

Kurt's vision obscured with tears.

Pushing Blaine away, Kurt made his escape out of the room.

He needed time to call Dave.

Inside Blaine's bathroom, Kurt slid down to sit against the radiator.

Fumbling for his phone he dialled.

After leaving the 7th missed call, Kurt thought he seemed a bit desperate. His eyes are moist and they hurt from where his palms are pressing into them. His back aches from having repeatedly rammed himself against the searing hot lines of the radiator, each thrust backwards being in time to the unanswered ring. He can feel the pain, but he does not care. He just needs Dave to answer.

After the 12th, he still hoped.

After the 17th, Kurt was curled up on the floor, biting his knee to stop himself from crying out in despair. He weeps vigorous, silent tears.

At the 22nd, he stopped.

The numbness of a defeated man washed over Kurt. His head was thick and all his thoughts seemed to be disfigured by a grey fog. This fog seeped into the cracks of thoughts and merged them with others until finally, his head became one long buzz of incomprehensible chatter.

Thoughts refused to make sense and Kurt was too tired to get the energy to care. Left inside Kurt was a paining forest fire: all consuming and deadening everything it strokes.

Unlocking the latch, he found Blaine waiting 2 foot away. "…Are you okay?" Blaine's voice cracked and his eyes looked as if they were about to flood.

Yet another person Kurt cares for, he's hurt. His stomach lurched and the fog dissipated into a black swirl of guilt and self-hatred, which fed the flames and killed yet more. How could he be so selfish? He couldn't bring himself to damage another person. Not twice, in one night.

Kurt stepped closer to Blaine and put a hand on his arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… nervous I guess."

Kurt moved his hand lower and laced his fingers with Blaine's. Squeezing them tightly, Kurt led the way back into his bedroom, emotions burnt into a nothingness haze.

He wished he could have felt something romantic, or at least visceral, when Blaine lay down. Unfortunately, the only mildly remarkable thing Kurt could focus on, was the feel of the mattress sinking next to him.

Blaine lay there, restless in his non-movement. "Hey Kurt?" he whispered after a while, "I'm scared too."

And it was true. Blaine was scared: scared it would hurt; scared he wouldn't do it correctly; scared of hurting Kurt. But what scared him the most was that if he didn't do this, he'd lose Kurt forever.

Kurt could see Blaine's leg twitching: summoning the courage to perform. Out of the corner of Kurt's eye, he swore he saw Blaine's head do one small sharp nod to himself.

_Curtain's up_, Kurt commented internally; _act one, scene one: foreplay_.

In a decisive move, Blaine was on top of him: knees supporting his weight so that his groin hovered just above Kurt's, and arms extended either side of Kurt's face, enclosing him in.

Kurt could feel Blaine's shallow, half-excited breath play against his skin as Blaine's mouth moved from Kurt's cheek to lips to neck. Skimming over, but never lingering.

A hand moved down to Kurt's midriff and delicate fingertips found their way under the clothes and dipped a couple of centimetres beneath the hemline of Kurt's boxers.

Kurt could feel Blaine's cock twitch through his jeans. Blaine let out a low breath and continued to stroke the skin just under Kurt's boxers. The weight of Blaine's cock slowly increased as Blaine lowered himself onto Kurt.

The idea of what you've taken for granted, what you've had, what you still could of had if only you were brave enough to say was never so keenly felt as it had been in Kurt at that moment.

The long and slow metallic rip of zipper broke through Kurt's internal regrets. Blaine's trailing of breath and lips moved lower.

_I can't lose you._

Kurt's hand, which had been limp for the entire scene, trembled off the bed and began to move through the dark waxed locks.

Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter because you do matter, Kurt.

Kurt did matter. To Blaine.

Kurt shivered.

Blaine gave a small smile and nuzzled Kurt's stomach tenderly; "excited?"

Fear.

In the bathroom, Kurt's phoned bleeped with a missed call.

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><p><strong>Um…Yeah. Sorry. Both for being so annoying and if, after all this wait, the writing has been below your expectations. *Offers a small, apologetic smile and a piece of chocolate*.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

**A slight interlude from main plot brought about because I'm sucky at updating and wanted to give you something for your troubles. It may seem like a complete rupture from all plot, story, and sanity, but bear with it and enjoy the respite from gloom while it lasts. Changed story to M, just to be safe, but to me it's quite tame. Hope this is okay.**

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><p>Night.<p>

They were talking in low voices. Just talking, he didn't need anything else; he didn't want anything more.

It was lazy, non-important whisperings: the kind people in love do when you're together and he just wants to hear your voice, with all your soothing tones like honey, directed to him and him alone.

Kurt smiled often, and from time to time little soft laughs tinkled forth from those full lips. He was indulgent.

Dave was by his side as they sat cuddled under the covers in the warm glow of Dave's lamp-lit room. That soft, down feathered duvet keeping him safe from the outside bitterness.

Dave's hand caressed the lower of Kurt's back before wrapping around to lie on Kurt's stomach. The hand was heavy. A secure but never forceful weight that felt assured in its right to be there.

Dave's fingers would stroke Kurt's stomach in absent-minded circles and every now and then, when he was feeling particularly teasing or would just want to feel Kurt react against him, he would let his lazy fingertips slide lightly under the line of Kurt's boxers, and run gently down his length; feeling the heat and hardness, and then continue to innocently stroke his stomach again.

At these moments, Kurt would elbow Dave's torso and nip his earlobe as a rebuff, but Dave could feel the involuntary incline of Kurt's hips when he touched Kurt's cock and when Dave placed his palm over Kurt's heart, Dave could feel the quickening of his heart.

Dave chuckled to himself, loving the reaction he'd gotten out of Kurt. He let his head fall down so that he could suck on the curve of Kurt's neck, his wavy hair soft against Kurt's cheek.

Kurt snuggled against the locks as he would a favourite pillow, the feeling of contentment washing over his whole body. It was the feeling of coming home to traveller that is too world-wearied.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the wetness of Dave's mouth tasting languidly his neck, Dave's soothing rounds with his fingertips, and the slow build up of arousal that was forming in his gut.

Kurt lifted himself up so that he was sitting on Dave's lap and could feel of Dave's cock hardening against his jeans. Kurt screwed his arse firmly down, his own lust increasing as Dave let out a quiet moan of approval against Kurt's shoulder and continued to suck with a renewed vigour.

No matter how many times Kurt felt it, nothing would turn him on quicker than the feel of Dave's cock against his arse.

It was at this point that the bedroom door opened.

Dave would never forget Blaine.

Dave gripped Kurt tighter to his chest and without taking his eyes off Blaine, Dave nuzzled his head so that his stubble gently scratched Kurt's skin, silently telling Blaine 'Kurt's mine now and you can't do shit about it, boy'.

Kurt smiled, knowing exactly what was going through Dave's mind. Kurt closed his eyes and drew his neck more viciously across Dave's stubble, marking himself.

Dave watched Blaine watching Kurt.

He saw Kurt sitting on top of Dave. Noticed the fading pink lines of Kurt's neck matched the pinks of his cheeks. Kurt had his eyes closed and a smile that he never showed to Blaine was across his face.

The smile of desire.

The smell of desire.

Blaine could see Dave's hand underneath Kurt's shirt. He could see that Kurt allowed that hand under: he allowed that rough hand to caress his unspoiled skin. He could see that Kurt allowed that clumsy body to press against his own perfect one. He could see Kurt running his hand through the back of Dave's hair and gripping.

Blaine could see it all.

But suddenly it didn't matter to Dave.

Because Kurt was in his arms, rubbing his arse against Dave's cock and it felt so good. He could feel the texture of Kurt's lips against his cheek and Kurt's heavy breathing against his skin. Dave's hands slid down from Kurt's stomach and he could feel Kurt's cock tightening his jeans. It didn't matter. Blaine didn't matter.

Underneath the covers, Dave opened the button of Kurt's jeans and pulled down his boxers.

Dave could feel the urgency in Kurt's fingers as he tried to undo Dave's trousers from behind. Kurt lay open-mouthed kisses against Dave's skin as he did so. They were random in their placement; Kurt's lust making their exact locations irrelevant. Kurt just wanted to taste Dave's skin. Any part of it. Every part of it.

In the heat of arousal, the onlooker on the outside was forgotten.

Kurt was moaning into Dave's mouth, their saliva mixing back and forth with the motion of their tongues. Dave was loosely pumping Kurt's cock, building up enough pre-cum to use as lubrication for a more forceful stroking. Kurt was close. Dave could feel it.

Kurt began to writhe restlessly against Dave's body, trying frantically to get access to Dave's cock. He managed to get past Dave's jeans as Kurt felt himself about to cum.

Kurt's hand found Dave's straining cock just as Kurt thrust sharply through Dave's tightened fist. Once. Twice. Enough.

Kurt orgasmed intensely onto that fluffy feathered duvet.

The warmth dripped weightily through Dave's fingers as Dave continued to run tenderly up and down Kurt's shaft, savouring the silky smooth feel of Kurt's cum in his hand.

A hand was working roughly at Dave's cock. It was jerky and it was demanding and it gripped just a little too tightly. As much as it hurt, Dave willed it not to stop. Squeezing his eyes through the pain, arousal started to take over, and soon Dave was close.

He saw Kurt's eyes and he saw that smile. He saw Kurt lean in to kiss him on the lips one last time.

The hand hurt so badly, but he didn't want it to stop.

Dave came in an excess of cum and tears.

He was alone, back flat, on his bed. His own cum burned like acid to his hands.

The tears came instantly. It was like his tear ducts were connected by an invisible thread to his orgasms. Every time he would orgasm, it made sure to bathe all traces of happiness away in an indestructible black death. The guilt of pretending he had a right to Kurt, a right to make Kurt happy, consumed him even in his fantasies.

And even in his fantasies, he could not escape Blaine. There he resided: a silent shadow eclipsing all. Always there, always watching.

Turning to his side his body convulsed in sobs that were born from the depths of his chest. He burrowed his head into his favourite pillow; the one Kurt had slept on. Kurt's scent had been washed almost out of existence by Dave's tears. He was world-wearied traveller that had found no home.

During those moments he wished desperately that Kurt would come and hold him liked he cared, even if Kurt pretended, just until his tears were spent and his shakings had stopped and he felt like life was worth living for one moment more.

He wished Kurt were there even for just one second. Just so he could touch him once more, feel him in his arms once more, have Kurt's saliva create a damp patch on his shoulder once more. Just once more.

'Please.' He whispered to the decaying image of Kurt that lingered on his lips still.

This was not the first time he had been reduced to tears after cumming. From the frequent occurrence of these onslaughts, he had learned how to repress the agonies of pain. Slowly the rate of his shudders reduced as his heartache returned to a buzz in the background.

With his body now only trembling, he reached for his bath towel to smear away his cum and tears.

Switching on his phone, it was then that he noticed the 22 missed calls from Kurt.

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><p><strong>A thank you to Mr. Glamour Shot for leaving such a lovely review on the last chapter. Would have thanked you soonermore in depth, but you weren't logged in so I couldn't leave a reply. To those of you who reviewed and I replied to, or even to those who's just read and liked this, I just want to say thanks once more. From the bottom of my heart, you guys are amazing.**


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